


I'm Lying Here (Wish I Was Crying)

by bunnybinnie



Series: Late Night Thoughts [3]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: (?), (mentioned but not the whole focus of the story), Angst, Established Lee Felix/Seo Changbin, Everyone Loves Lee Felix (Stray Kids), Except For Himself, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Late at Night, Past Child Abuse, Past Incest, Repressed Anger, Repressed Memories, Self-Hatred, Slight mention of religion, basically felix thinks he's a bad person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:21:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26024899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunnybinnie/pseuds/bunnybinnie
Summary: Maybe if none of this had happened, he would be the person he tries so hard to become.
Series: Late Night Thoughts [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1889530
Kudos: 34





	I'm Lying Here (Wish I Was Crying)

**Author's Note:**

> READ THE TAGS
> 
> It's not /that/ descriptive, but there is still a bit of description of memories and quite straightforward vocabulary.

Felix was a bubbly boy. Often smiling, he was like a bright star in the darkest night. He would be lying if he said he was not tagging along when people would call him ‘cute’ or ‘pure’, ‘gullible’ even but always in an endearing way. Very much like one would coo over a small child, his friends were fond of him and his brightness. If he had had to get used to that sort of reaction, he now had very much accepted it. He had made it his own, sometimes putting a bit of a show to crack a joke or two.

But there were times he thought he was a fraud. Times where he wondered how actually cute and pure he really was. He liked that bubbly label people had put on him, but tonight he felt like tearing it apart. There was nothing cute in what his mind was telling him. He had nothing pure left after what his memories were hammering him with. He was stained, cracked if not broken.

He hated the anger that was always lingering, hiding somewhere in the darkness of his mind. He had learnt to trap it, put it in a cage and tranquillized it; he couldn’t kill it yet, the beast was stronger than him. He had seen nastiness from up close, growing up along its side, and sometimes he was scared he would become like _him_. He was scared of the dark, both because he feared what it could hide, and also because he knew that the worst he could find, was himself. That fear only fed his anger.

But Felix, more than anything, hated how easily he could fall into that dreaded nastiness. He knew how much pain he could do to others and himself, he knew the weight of words and yet if the beast wasn’t in its cage, he knew how fast he’d let it rule. He could break people. He could ruin them and hurt them like himself had been hurt. But he didn’t want that. So, the cage. He loved kindness because he needed it so badly. It was exhausting sometimes, it needed effort. But he couldn’t let himself become a pale copy of the man that raised him.

Tonight, like it would often happen though he wouldn’t dare admit it, he felt off. Maybe he was too tired from being somewhat forcefully kind. Staring at the oh too white ceiling, his bed cracking at each of his movements, he wondered if that made him a bad person. Had he fallen into what he was running from by trying so hard to escape it? Was trying to be the most innocent and human possible wrong? Was he… lying?

He was a liar. A fraud. He had tricked so many people into liking him, trusting him with their friendship, their love, and their deepest, darkest secrets. That was so evil he felt his guts turn. He didn’t deserve all the love his friends were giving him, hell, showering him with. Most of them had been hurt too, but they were good. They were his anchors. And he had tricked them, giving in in the maliciousness he had worked so hard to run away from. What kind of monster was he?

Then, he thought about his boyfriend. Though he was sometimes driving him crazy, Changbin had been and remained to this day a beacon for Felix. He had given him his hand years ago, not knowing all the struggles that would put him through, yet he never let it go. But even him didn’t truly know Felix. Even him, who was the closest to knowing Felix like the back of his hand as if they were one and the same, had been tricked. Felix was this good of a liar, he wanted to puke. Changbin thought he knew him more than anybody else, almost even more than Felix himself.

But there was still one thing he didn’t know of, and never would. Because this, Felix had never told anyone, barely to himself. The mere thought of the blurry memories was enough to make him feel sick, his eyes welling up with tears and begging to let them go.

He didn’t want to think about the older boy that he had once called his brother. He didn’t want to remember his voice asking him ‘to play’, but 'to keep it their secret'. Why did he even remember that? Why had those memories one day rose from what he thought he had forgotten about? He bit his tongue, images of the way the older boy’s one would push against his gritted baby teeth, making him wince in disgust, flooding his mind. His breathing got heavier as he knew he used to laugh at the feeling of his brother’s mouth between his legs. Back then, it was tickling him, making him burst into giggles though he was somewhat uneasy (did he already know something was wrong? Or was it just the fear of getting caught by the parents in the opposite room?), but now it would only make his body tense up.

It was only a game, right? It had been playful, innocent even. Just some 11-year-old a bit too curious, and a 7-ear-old way too eager to play at night instead of sleeping. How long did that game last?

He wished he had been sleeping instead, so tonight he wouldn’t have to think yet again about all this, praying to God to just let him cry; begging Him to erase his memories. Anything so he would never feel like miles away from his own body when Changbin was kissing it, brushing his skin with such tenderness that Felix would beg him to break him.

Just so he would never stop in mid-action again, his mind suddenly asking him if his brother’s dick felt the same in his hand when he was a kid.

Felix wondered how different things would be if he hadn’t gone though all that. Maybe he’d truly be a good person. He’d be whole.

Maybe Felix would have been a bubbly boy.


End file.
